Dying Just to Breathe Again
by PathOfThorns
Summary: Sam and Dean get involved in a case where they must track down and kill the "perfect hunter". And it's a lot harder than either one imagined, as they both find themselves battling what seems like death incarnate. Limp!Sam and Hurt!Dean plus Awesome!Bobby
1. Of nightmares and monsters

**Heya! So yeah, this is my first story here on fanfic, kinda my first story ever really, so please be gentle, thanks :P I've written things before, but I never really finish them, so hopefully I can make this work. Constructive criticism is always appreciated.  
>R&amp;R please!<br>Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Supernatural, if I did? … *smiles evilly***

"_Roses are red  
>Violets are blue<br>Shits falling on my head  
>Doesn't it bother you too?"<em>

Sam laughed quietly to himself as he read Dean's text, shaking his head at his brother's attempt at poetry. Bringing the phone up to his face, Sam quickly typed a reply.

"_You should really stop doing that Dean. It doesn't suit you at all. Maybe I'll tell Dad when we see him again that his "Badass" Hunter son is writing poetry now, see how he takes it."_

Sam smiled again as he rested the phone on his leg and slumped down into the leather seat of the Impala, closing his eyes against a wave of exhaustion. This was the second night in a row he had gone with too little sleep, and the effects were taking him down hard. Dean had insisted that Sam stay in the Impala, threatening to kick his ass if he tried to follow him. After a couple minutes of futile arguing, Sam finally gave in and allowed Dean to go do reconnaissance for the hunt on his own, but only after Dean promised he would stay in touch via cellphone. As if reading his thoughts, Sam's phone buzzed on his thigh, signaling a reply from Dean. Mentally sighing in relief, Sam opened his tired eyes and grabbed the phone from his leg.

"_Come on, man. That's so not fair. You're just jealous because you can't think of anything that rhymes. I'm heading back over, by the way, nothing out here but a bunch of mud and dirt that keeps falling in my hair. I'm calling the shower first."_

It took a while for the glowing screen to come into focus completely, and the words continued to swim across his vision for a good minute before finally settling into decipherable letters. Reading over the text, Sam smirked to himself at his brother's discomfort of the situation and was slightly glad Dean made him sit this out. He didn't have the energy to take a shower tonight. Speaking of energy, Sam's seemed to be dwindling by the minute and his eyes drooped shut against his will. Within minutes, he was snoring slightly, his head leaning against the cool glass of the Impala's window, his phone falling from slack fingers to land in his lap. Dean's text went unanswered.

**()()()()()()()()()()()SPN()()()()()()()()()()**

Something wet and warm dripped onto his forehead and dread filled his stomach, eating at his insides. He knew what this was. He knew what he'd see when he opened his eyes. Sam tried fighting it, he tried fighting the pull that forced his eyes open, but to no avail. Another drop splashed onto his cheek and Sam's eyes flew open. Jess stared down at him, accusation in her eyes. Her mouth gaped open and black blood dripped from the slash in her stomach, her beautiful golden hair fanned out around her head like a halo.

It made Sam sick. His own mouth opened, but where Jess's was open heaving for air, Sam's was open in disgusted shock, and he scrambled back on the bed he was laying on until his back hit the headrest. His eyes remained riveted to Jess's dying form, pinned to the ceiling above him. Her mouth moved trying to form words, to accuse him, to blame him for her death, but before the words could leave her lifeless lips, the ceiling burst into blue flames behind her. The supernatural fire quickly consumed the entire ceiling and was soon burning the whole room to ash, but Sam couldn't move, he was rooted to the bed, eyes locked on the charred, blackened form that used to be his lover. He screamed his denial, shouting at whatever God existed that it just _wasn't fair _but there was no answer, and he wasn't expecting one. Heat licked across his bare skin, burning his arms. It was constricting, grabbing and pulling at him, shaking him. It was unbearable and Sam cried out in fear and pain.

He jerked forwards and his eyes snapped open, the familiar sight of the Impala greeted him, and he realized that the constricting feeling was Dean's hands, which were wrapped around his arms, shaking him awake.

"Sam! Hey, Sam, you're okay. You're okay. Calm down, man." Dean's voice filtered through the cotton in his mind, and he managed to nod, reaching up and patting Dean's arm reassuringly. Dean kept up a litany of calming words and finally the fear that stole his breath abated.

"I'm good. I'm fine Dean, it was just a nightmare. You can let go of me now." Sam said, his voice still shaking slightly.

"Uh huh. I'm sure your 'fine' Sam. You almost gave me a heart attack! You know that? You didn't reply to my text, even though it was your damn idea to do that in the first place, so I freaked and ran the rest of the way to the Impala to find you having a bitch of a nightmare. Again. Just stay put, I'm driving us back to the motel." With that, Dean let go of Sam, pushing him back into the seat before shutting the passenger door and circling around the car to get behind the wheel.

The door creaked in protest as Dean slammed it shut behind him, the whole car rocking with the force. He gunned the engine and pulled out of the patch of dirt he had stopped at, dust billowing up in the air as he tore out onto the street. Glancing at Dean from the corner of his eye, Sam saw just how freaked he really was and instantly felt bad for falling asleep. Making a silent promise to himself to stay awake for Dean's sake, Sam turned his head to look out the window at the passing silhouettes of trees.

The moon was out, casting faint white light on their surroundings, but not enough to make out individual shapes. The forest passed by in a flurry of darkness that had a shiver running up his spine and a bad feeling settling in his stomach. Sam pushed the uneasiness away and decided to occupy his mind on their current hunt instead. He reached out a hand and snatched the map from the dashboard, pulling out his penlight from his pocket and flicking it on. The small light illuminated the interior of the car and Sam traced a path marked on the map with his finger. The path led deep into the woods, a rather untraveled path that tourists didn't take when exploring the woods. In fact, rarely anyone took that path when going into the forest, it was too dangerous to traverse for most people, yet still, there had been several deaths already in the past couple months.

According to the sheriff in the small town, a group of tourist hikers had gone up the path and hadn't returned. Sheriff Dope (Dean hadn't believed him when he told him the sheriff's name) had informed them that he sent up a search party, but they hadn't found anything for miles. That is, until yesterday, when one of the hikers was found flayed open by the entrance to the trail. The victim was a young man in his mid-thirties who would have been on par with Dean in the looks department if not for the four vertical claw marks that ran from his collar bone, all the way down his legs to his feet. Whatever had killed the man had claws sharper than any razor in existence. The slashes went almost clean through to the other side, practically separating the man in four. Bone had offered no form of resistence either; its claws were obviously able to shred bone as easy as flesh. All in all, it was one nasty son of a bitch, according to Dean, and it needed to die. Sam had no problem going along with that plan, and earlier that day, he had been researching for anything that might fit the bill while Dean had been getting lunch. He hadn't found anything though, and so here they were, at no-human-should-be-awake o' clock at night, searching, or rather, _Dean_ was searching for any more evidence that might point to the culprit. And now even that was a bust. It seemed like they were getting nowhere with this case and it was getting on both their nerves.

Sam had proposed the idea of Wendigo to Dean, but Dean was quick to deny that possibility, saying that Wendigo don't live around here in the first place, and secondly that they like to keep their pray alive, not kill them and then use their food as a warning. Which is exactly what this thing did, it killed one of the hikers and put their body where anyone walking by might see it. It was a warning to keep others out. Whatever this creature was, it was territorial and didn't like outsiders trespassing.

Sam was pulled from his thoughts when Dean's voice sounded from beside him.

"We're here, Sam. Get your ass moving, it's been a long day and I'm covered in dirt and other crap I don't want to think about." Sam looked up from the map, surprised to find them back at the motel already. "Sometime today, Sam." Dean said exasperatedly from his left, and he complied, opening the squeaking door and climbing out of the car.

"You go on ahead, Dean, I got the bags, and you stink. Go take a shower." Sam replied as he made his way to the trunk of the Impala. A grunt was his only answer, which he took as he a sound of compliance. He pulled the trunk open and grabbed their bags, slinging them over his shoulder and following Dean into the crap-hole motel room they were currently staying in. Puke green colored walls clashed horribly with the orange rug and purple beds. It looked like some fairy threw up a rainbow. Pushing past the headache that was building behind his eyes at the sight, Sam dumped their bags on the purple beds and flopped onto the bed nearest the door, closing his eyes. The sound of the shower running in the bathroom was soothing him to near sleep.

_Why, Sam? Why did you let me die?_

Jess's voice resonated through his mind, waking him up like a slap in the face. He lay on the bed for several more moments, carefully holding his breath and listening for anything out of the ordinary. When nothing but the shower running met his ears, he allowed himself to relax back into the bed, taking comfort in the fact that Dean was just in the other room. He swallowed convulsively, fighting back sudden nausea and decided that sleep wasn't an option anymore.

Getting up from the bed, he grabbed his bag from the floor and pulled out his laptop, going over to the small table by the window and dropping down heavily into the chair. He opened up the computer, his search engine popping into existence on the screen. The shower shut off then, and Dean came into the room, steam curling out the door behind him. He gave one look at Sam before his eyes narrowed, but he didn't say anything, instead he walked over to the bed nearest the door and dropped onto it like Sam had done earlier. Within minutes, Dean was asleep, his breathing deep and even. Smiling at the sight, Sam turned back to the small laptop screen and sighed. _This is gonna be a long night_, he thought as he began to type, a long night of research, and once again, no sleep.

**()()()()()()()()()()()SPN()()()()()()()()()()**

"Dean…Dean! Wake up, man! I think I found out what we're hunting." Sam said, taking a sip of his fifth cup of coffee and waiting for Dean to get up, excitement bubbling in his veins, or maybe that was the coffee. Sam didn't know and he didn't care. "Dean!" He said again, and this time he was rewarded when Dean's green eyes opened to slits and peered at him angrily.

"Ugh…What is it Sam? This better be damn good if you're waking me up at six in the morning." Came Dean's unhappy reply from the bed.

"It is. I found out what it is we're dealing with. It's called a Mngwa."

"…Sorry, what? Are speaking the same language here?"

"Actually, no, we aren't. The Mngwa is Swahili. It's a panther/tiger creature, better than both combined when it comes to both killing and hunting. It hunts humans too, and it says here that one swipe of its claws will kill you, or one bite for that matter. This Mngwa, its serious shit Dean. It says that when hunting at night, the damn things impossible to hear. I thought it was just a legend, but it all adds up. Mngwa are seriously territorial and they only live in forests, explains why it left our victim out in plain sight, it's trying to scare everyone else away because it can't survive anywhere outside the forest. Hmm, the bad thing though, is that they aren't known for leaving anyone alive, and there's no record of a Hunter ever taking one out before, they all fail. Most likely, this thing has already killed the other hikers, and if we want even a chance at killing this thing? We have _got_ to do it during daylight. We don't stand a chance once night falls. This thing is the perfect hunter, Dean."

"Well shit, this is gonna be real fun, isn't it?" Dean said sarcastically as he levered himself up on the bed and swung his legs over the edge. He reached down and grabbed a pair of jeans out of his bag and pulled them on. "Does it tell you how to kill these things by any chance?"

"When are we ever that lucky?" Sam sighed, and Dean groaned in annoyance.

"Alright then, Sammy. Just means we gotta pull all the stops on this one then, huh? What about the grenade launcher? We never get to use that thing anyway. And plus, there's no way this thing is the perfect hunter, Sam." Dean said confidently.

"Oh really? Because from what I've read, I'm pretty sure it is." Sam raised an eyebrow expectantly.

"Nah, there's no way it is. Wanna know how I know?" Dean smiled at Sam.

"Please enlighten me, Dean. I'm dying to know." Sam said sarcastically.

"Well, Sammy, there's no way it can be the 'perfect hunter', because _I'm_ the perfect hunter. And I'm gonna teach this bitch the meaning of fear." There was nothing friendly about Dean's smile this time. Now it was the smile of a predator, and Sam didn't have anything to say to that.

**So that's it for the first chapter. Not sure if I'm gonna continue or not. Please review and let me know what you think. Also, I don't have a beta seeing as I'm new, so all mistakes are mine and I apologize if there are any I didn't catch. Bye bye! -Thorn**


	2. Vendetta

**Hello again! So, I decided to continue this story, and thanks to all of you who story alerted this and to those of you who commented. The advice helps a lot too, so thanks . Alright then, here's the next chapter  
>R&amp;R please!<br>Disclaimer: Still don't own them, sadly**

Mine. _Mine_. Those sheep, they dare to try and take what is not theirs. They infest my new home like parasites, even though he promised. He _promised_. How stupid to trust words from a sheep's mouth. They lie to everyone and everything. They poison the land they walk on and kill the forest, my _home_. Mine, not theirs, and yet they still pour through my woods like it's _theirs_. Foul creatures, stupid creatures, and then there are those two. Ah, yes, those two sheep in wolves' clothing. Hunters. Foolish hunters who dare to hunt the Wolf. Stupid sheep, you know nothing. Fear is a concept I have yet to grasp. You think you can hunt the hunter? No, I shall make you the hunted, worthless sheep, so run with your herd; run straight into the jaws of the Wolf, for I shall be waiting for you, you poor, poor bloody sheep.

()()()()SPN()()()()

"Morning, Rangers. Glad you could make it here so early. Sorry for the last minute call." Sherriff Dope quipped happily, glancing uninterestedly at the badges Sam and Dean flashed at him.

"Not a problem, Sherriff. Now, you said over the phone that another body was found?" Sam queried, pocketing his badge as he stared down at the Sherriff, who sat cross-legged in the dirt at his feet.

"Yes, yes, of course. This way, gentlemen." The Sherriff said as he pushed up off the ground, his round belly slowing his progress. With a grunt, he was finally upright, standing at about five feet tall and barely coming up to Sam's chest. He looked like a plump blueberry, with his navy-blue police coat and jeans stretched tight around his protruding stomach.

"The victim, Serah Amblewood, was confirmed as one of the hikers who went up the trail a week ago. Same deal with this one as the last, too. Cause of death was blood loss, no doubt from the same animal that did in Jack Allende. It would be a real help if you guys could capture the animal responsible for this already, its scaring away tourists." Sherriff Dope said nervously as he started up the dirt path towards the beginning of the trail, Sam and Dean following closely behind.

"We're trying, Sherriff, but the thing is, is that we still don't know what exactly we're dealing with here. It could be any kind of dangerous animal, and it would be safer if you closed the trail altogether until we've dealt with it. We don't want anyone else getting hurt." Sam replied, walking over to stand behind the Sherriff as he came to a stop by the entrance of the trail.

"Oh. Well I would have earlier, but you know, it's bad for business to close a trail down. Draws unwanted attention to matters that tourists shouldn't be worrying about."

"Actually, that's _exactly_ what tourists should be worrying about, Dope. You're saying that tourists shouldn't worry about a rabid animal killing people on this trail? Yeah, 'cause that makes sense." Dean rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed with the way the Sherriff was running things.

Sherriff Dope seemed to consider Dean's words before nodding to himself and grunting in what Sam took as agreement. Spinning around, the Sherriff continued walking towards a group of police men standing a few feet away. The police officers milled around the body of the victim, no real goal in mind since as far as they knew, it was just a feral animal doing the killing, meaning no case, and no one to arrest.

"Well, here you have it. Serah Amblewood. Poor thing was barely nineteen. Probably had a boyfriend and everything, and to see her like this…" Sherriff Dope trailed off, biting his lower lip in obvious displeasure and running a shaking hand through his short brown hair.

"We've got it from here, thanks Sherriff. Call us if you find anything else, you never know what might help." Sam nodded at the Sherriff, hoping he would take the hint and leave.

"Oh. Yes, of course, I'll make sure I do. You gentlemen take care now. I'll be on my way, never was very good with blood." He laughed humorlessly and turned, heading back down the trail with a wave.

"Thank God you got rid of him. Man, he rubs me the wrong way, Sammy. I think it's his eyes, all beady and-"

"Dean. Focus." Sam interrupted as he turned back to the mangled body of Serah, stepping closer to get a better look. Dean cut his eyes towards Sam, muttering several more derogatory terms in the Sherriff's direction before trudging after him slowly.

Sam's lips twitched down in disgust as the coppery smell of blood filled his nose. Serah Amblewood was definitely just a teenager, her young face smoothed over in death, and her sightless eyes, once a beautiful sky blue, were glassy and fogged over. Her long amber hair spilled over her shoulders and around her head like a sickeningly familiar halo. She would have been a pretty girl, and no doubt had a boyfriend, but her image was thrown off by the gory, gaping vertical wounds adorning her chest and abdomen. Large bloody holes ran in a crescent shape across her stomach and over the deep claw marks, and matching holes would probably be found marring her back.

"Damn. This is one sick son of a bitch, Sam. We are so ganking its ass, and soon." Dean growled, anger evident in his voice.

"I know, but we still don't know how to kill the Mngwa. Plus, you see what it did? Dean, that thing killed this girl and the other victim with just one swipe of its claws. And you see those holes? I'm betting those are from teeth, which means that this Mngwa can hold a _person_ in its mouth. I don't think jumping into this one unprepared is the right call." Sam said as he turned away from the girl. There wasn't anything else they could gain by looking at the bloody corpse.

"Well how else do you suppose we find any more information on this thing? I think we need to do some searching around the actual forest, up that trail for starters. If this thing is killing hikers and dropping their bodies at the entrance, it obviously means that it doesn't want anyone else coming in. That's why I think we should get in there, you know, straight into the lion's den. Make _it _come to _us_." Dean grinned dangerously, following behind Sam as he started back down the trail towards the Impala. "You know, before it goes and kills some other clueless hiker."

"Well that's another thing I don't get. Why is the Mngwa only killing people _now_? I mean, sure, not that many people ever really took that trail, but still, _some_ had to, right? But there's no record of anyone ever dying from some crazed animal before. It just doesn't make sense, Dean. The Mngwa is super territorial, which is why its offing these people now, but that also means it would have killed anyone _else_ who came up that trail too. It wouldn't let them live." Sam questioned.

"I'll do you one better. What the hell is this…Mingya thing doing here in the first place? Why is it here? Shouldn't it be in…wherever it is Swahili creatures come from?"

"Mngwa, Dean, and they come from Zanzibar, Kenya, Tanzania and north Mozambique, generally."

"You know you're a walking dictionary, Sam. Can't you fill that brain with anything useful?"

"Shut up, and you have a point. I mean, what _is_ it doing here in Minnesota? It shouldn't have been able to even _get_ here. Unless…" Sam trailed off, lost in his thoughts.

"Unless someone brought it here." Dean picked up on his brother's train of thought, snapping his fingers triumphantly.

"Exactly. Someone would have had to bring the Mngwa from Africa, over to the U.S. How they did it, I have no idea. How did they even manage to find it? But anyway, that brings up another question. Why? Why would someone bring a Mngwa to Minnesota? It doesn't make sense." Sam ran a hand through his hair, frustrated.

"Forget 'why', what about 'who'? Who would do that? It's not like the Mingya thing is helping in any way, it's just scaring away tourists." Dean said as they stepped out of the woods and onto the asphalt of the road, walking over to the Impala which stood proudly across the street. He stopped by the driver's side and pulled the door open. "Alright, well let's go grab something to eat before we talk ourselves to death. I'm starved." Dean stated as he slid behind the wheel and shut the door.

Sam's lips lifted in a small smile. His brother always seemed to have food on his mind, no matter what situation they were in.

"You're always starved." Sam walked over to the passenger side and pulled the door open, sliding into the car and tugging the door closed behind him.

The roar of the Impala's engine had birds cawing angrily and taking flight from the trees. Two pink eyes, the color of pale flesh, glared at the retreating black machine with hatred in their depths.

()()()()SPN()()()()

"You know, Sam, I still think we should get out there and try to at least get a glimpse of the thing. We need to know what we're up against, man, and since all the victims so far were just tourists, no one local knew them, which means we don't have anyone to interview or anything. No witnesses either. The only way we're gonna get any sort of idea of what we're up against is if we go out there and look for the bitch ourselves." Dean said around a mouthful of burger.

They were sitting in a small diner that was conveniently located next to the gas station they had stopped at. Despite its size, the diner was packed full of people, and Sam and Dean were forced to sit in a small booth right next to the bathrooms. The smell alone would have been enough to kill Sam's appetite if he was hungry at all, but the lack of sleep and the nightmares he kept having were enough to stave off hunger. Apparently, though, the god-awful smell had no effect on Dean, who kept shoveling fries into his mouth when it wasn't already occupied with his burger. Maybe the smell from the extra unions was enough to cancel out the stench of the restrooms. Either that, or Dean had an iron stomach. It was probably the former, but Sam wasn't so sure anymore.

"I still don't like the idea, Dean, but I don't think we have much of a choice right now. If we don't do something soon, more people will die. I think the only option we have right now is to go out and try and find the Mngwa before it has a chance to kill anybody else. It's still early, so we should be fine as long as we don't go too deep, but once the sun starts to set? We're booking ass and getting out of there." Sam stated with conviction, leaving no room for argument.

"We will, geez, don't get your panties in a bunch, grandma. I don't want to be out there with that thing at night any more than you do, believe me. I can't have my kid brother getting lost, now can I?" Dean teased.

"Shut up, Jerk. If either of us were to get lost, it would be you. You're the one who can 'barely find your way to a decent pick up line'." Sam teased back, happy to lighten the mood.

"Bitch. You can tell that to me once _you're_ the one bringing all the girls home. And hey, she liked me. I saved her kid, you know." Dean said, wiping his mouth as he finished off the burger and pulled out his wallet. He dropped the money onto the table and gestured at Sam to stand. "Come on, Sam. Let's go, we're burning daylight here."

"You know, Dean, I could get just as many girls as you if I wanted to. It's just that I actually like to have feelings towards the women I kiss." Sam smiled as he stood, waiting for Dean to take the lead before following after him, weaving his way carefully through the crowd of dining customers.

"Aw, come on, Sammy. That takes all the fun out of it." Dean called back at him, smiling when he heard Sam's laughter.

()()()()SPN()()()()

The sun beat down mercilessly on the forest floor, the trees providing little relief from the blazing heat as they remained stubbornly still, refusing to carry any sort of breeze. Sweat dripped down Dean's back endlessly, and he wondered momentarily if he was going to end up dehydrated from the amount of water he was losing. It dripped down into his eyes, stinging and burning, and he rubbed a hand over his forehead to futilely wipe away the moisture.

"Sam, we've been out here for hours, man. This thing isn't showing." Dean said loudly enough to get his brother's attention. Sam was up the trail, further ahead of him, because apparently the heat didn't bother College Boy.

"Dean its been two hours, that's it. Calm down, it should show itself soon, so be on your guard." Sam replied equally as loud. They had gone up the trail only two hours ago, but it felt like at least five to Dean. They had armed themselves with the standard pistols and iron rounds that they usually took on a hunt for something 'corporeal', as Sam would say, and the comforting weight of the Desert Eagle against his back was the only reason that he let Sam wander ahead of him. The constant chatter of birds and the annoying buzzing of bugs was seriously getting on his nerves though.

"Two hours is long enough in this heat. Come on, Sam, let's just come back tomorrow." He kicked at loose stone and watched as it flew away into the underbrush. The rock bounced away, disappearing into the bushes, and an angry chattering served as his only warning before a red bird of some sort – Sam would know the name – came bursting from the foliage and flew off into the forest. "Sam! Don't ignore me. I will leave your ass here." Only the calls of birds met his ears. "Sam?" Still nothing. Worry started to gnaw at his stomach. "Answer me, man! This isn't funny." The report of a gun succeeded in shooting his worry through the roof.

His feet were running before he even gave the command, and in a matter of seconds he was up the trail with his Desert Eagle drawn out in front of him. The sight that met his eyes had his blood turning to ice in his veins. A huge animal was crouched over the prone form of his brother, blood dripping off its jaw. Curved fangs were bared in a snarl and pink eyes narrowed at the sight of him. Gray fur rippled as the Mngwa turned to face him, its muscles bunching and flexing under the skin.

He chanced a quick glance down at Sam. Blood was already saturating the front of his shirt, and his eyes were closed. Unconscious. White hot fury had his vision turning red as the shock wore off, and he lifted the Eagle to fire off three consecutive rounds into the beast's flesh.

The Mngwa didn't even flinch as the iron rounds punched holes in its legs and torso, crimson blood immediately starting to pour from the ragged wounds. The panther/tiger hybrid growled at him and crouched low to the ground, its haunches in the air and its striped tail whipping back and forth in anger. Dean watched enough of the History Channel (thanks to Sam) to know what that meant, and he was already rolling to one side as the Mngwa pounced at him. What the History Channel didn't tell you, though, was how fucking fast a Mngwa was, and it caught him square in the chest mid-roll. He felt the razorblade claws dig into his chest painfully, drawing blood as he landed on his back in the dirt, the Mngwa on top of him. Biting back the scream that threatened to spill forth, he pulled his gun up and shot the beast straight through its heart.

Dark red blood spurted onto his shirt from the broken muscle and the Mngwa growled in annoyance and leapt off of him, but didn't go down. Apparently Mngwa didn't need hearts. Just his goddamn luck. Climbing unsteadily to his feet, Dean clutched a hand to his bleeding chest and brought his other hand up to point the smoking Eagle at the Mngwa's ugly face, right between its unnerving cotton-candy pink eyes.

The creature's lips curled in what could only be described as a smile, its curved fangs hanging out menacingly. A gray tongue flicked out to lick his little brother's blood from its lips and its eyes dilated in pleasure. A low growl issued forth from the depths of its throat, a jagged and sharp sound, before its whole jaw opened wide. Way too wide.

It looked like the bones were unhinging in its mouth as its jaws opened wider and wider until it seemed like its mandible would just pop clean off. Now he understood how the beast was able to carry a person in its mouth. The damn thing was like a snake, able to stretch its jaws impossibly wide in order to swallow something twice its size. It was also creepy as Hell, and it only got creepier when sounds were suddenly pushing past its gaping jaws.

Words. Words spoken in English, garbled and broken, but words nonetheless.

"Pretty, pretty sheep tastes so good. I shall enjoy eating his sweet flesh. Yes, it tastes like madness and smells like insanity. So pretty and sweet, little sheep." The broken words fell from the Mngwa's mouth like shards of glass, and he wouldn't be surprised if his ears were bleeding from the sound.

"You won't touch him, bitch. I'll kill you first, I swear." Growled Dean possessively, not liking how the creature stood between him and his unprotected brother. The Mngwa laughed then, and it wasn't an evil sound, not the sound a predator makes. No, that would have been better. It was human laughter, a child's giggle. The sound a kid makes when they're giddy with happiness on Christmas morning. Glee filled and falsely disarming. It made Dean cringe in disgust, thoroughly disturbed.

The laughter died down as the Mngwa took a step forward, its lips curling once again in a bloody smile. "Ah, the black sheep. You protect your flock. You lead them. You're stronger than the others, better than the others, but you're still just a sheep to me. Mere prey, and yet you want me to fear you? The Wolf fear a sheep? What twisted thoughts you have, damaged sheep."

The Mngwa was leaping towards him again before it even finished speaking, its metal claws extended towards his unprotected chest.

There was no time to dodge the blow. All Dean had time to do was lift the Eagle an inch and squeeze off one last shot before the claws were in him, tearing and ripping away at his flesh, the claws catching on his ribs. A scream tore its way from his throat as the white hot pain flared over every inch of his body, and he was distantly aware of the sensation of falling. The next thing he knew, he was face down in the dirt, head turned slightly to the side and uncooperative lungs heaving for air. A warm, wet feeling was spreading out beneath him at an alarming rate.

Darkness danced at the edges of his vision, threatening to pull him under. The last thing he saw was the Mngwa's face, its head cocked to the side and a bullet hole directly between its joy-filled pink eyes, still smiling at him. His last thought was of Sam, unprotected and possibly dead on the ground just two feet away from him, and he couldn't even gather the strength to move over and die next to him. Then the darkness engulfed his vision and mind, dragging his consciousness down with it, and he knew no more.

**So that's it for Ch. 2, not too happy with this one, I feel like I may have rushed things at some parts, and I have this thing where I'm never happy with anything I write, so forgive me if this chapter sucks :P Still trying to find my legs here, so yeah, thnx for readin – Thorn**


	3. Wordless communication

**Hello, everyone! Wanted to say a BIG thanks to those of you who replied to this story (brynerose, kirabaros, monkeymuse, and valleri68) it really motivates me to continue writing. Also, just wanted to say that I'll probably update either every day, or every other day, so you won't have to wait too long. And so, here's the third chapter.  
>R&amp;R please!<br>Disclaimer: **_**Still**_** don't own them. Tragic, really.**

Disjointed images filtered slowly through Dean's mind, relentlessly dragging him towards the light of consciousness. They played over his eyelids like a movie with bad reception, jumping from one image to the other.

A red bird erupting from the bushes in a flurry of bright red feathers. The color of blood. A bloody grin. A twisted smile on a twisted face. Teeth sharp as metal. Claws sharp as metal. Metal claws. Ripping. Tearing. Mutilating.

With the images came sensations, emotions; slowly but surely pulling the shattered pieces of his conscious back together. Surprise. Anger. Pain (and a helluva lot of it too). Worry. Fear. Concern... wait, worry? Concern?

Dean's broken conscious struggled to bring an image to the emotions, and finally it clicked in place. It was the last piece to the puzzle of his conscious. The last thought on Dean's mind before he lost consciousness was the first thought on Dean's mind when he returned to it. Sammy.

Dean shot up from the ground, his little brother's name exploding from his lips. Rather, that's how it played out in his mind, but in reality all that happened was a twitch of his fingers. Instead of shouting out his brother's name, a low moan escaped, greater speech a seemingly impossible task at the moment.

Panic started to dig its frigid claws into him, and he tried pushing up again, jostling his shredded chest with the movement. His arms buckled at his side, dropping him back to the ground and causing another moan of pain to push past his lips. Excruciating pain danced along his chest and abdomen like fire, burning and stinging his wounded flesh. His fragile hold on consciousness threatened to drop out from under him again, the darkness of sleep encroaching on the edges of his vision.

The rational part of his mind reminded him that he wouldn't be of any help to Sam if he passed out again, so he stopped his attempts at sitting up and relaxed back into the cold ground. Deciding to take things slower this time, he focused instead on just opening his eyes, but even something as simple as that was suddenly ten times harder than it should be. After what felt like hours of trying fruitlessly to pry his eyelids open - Dean was thoroughly convinced that they weighed fifty pounds each – he gave up with a sigh and decided that taking a rest sounded good right about then. The weightlessness of sleep was just starting to pull him away when a small, weak groan sounded from off to his right.

Dean knew that sound. He heard it once before when Sammy was just fifteen and had gotten clawed up by a werewolf. It was Sam's I'm-in-a-shitload-of-pain-right-now groan. The sound Dean promised Sam wouldn't ever have to make again.

_Sorry, Sammy, for breaking that promise._

It was also the sound that gave Dean the extra strength he needed to lift his eyelids. Darkness greeted his vision once again, and for a second he wasn't sure if he _had_ opened his eyes, but the sparkle of stars in the distance told him otherwise. _Shit_. It was night out, which meant that the Mngwa was just going to be that much harder to kill, or escape.

Another soft, pain-filled groan had Dean struggling to get his uncooperative vocal chords under control, but apparently opening his eyes was all his body could deal with at the moment. Another groan followed after the second, and Dean could tell that his brother was clawing his way towards wakefulness. _Come on, Sam. _Dean silently cheered his brother on.

Sam's breath hitched in pain, and Dean knew that Sam was conscious once again. Maybe he should think it was weird that he could determine whether Sam was awake or not due to his breathing pattern, but he wasn't. Not in the slightest. Years spent lying awake at night, listening to make sure little Sammy didn't have another nightmare, was enough to have him relying on Sam's breathing alone to alert him to his little brother's condition.

"De'n?" Sam's slurred voice carried over from where he lay on the ground, unknowingly mirroring Dean's own position.

_That's my boy_. Dean praised in his mind, wishing he could get his paralyzed voice to work. To reassure his brother that he was here, that he wasn't alone. If only telepathy was real, he could communicate with Sam through his mind, but seeing as it wasn't, he settled on grunting in reply instead. A cough followed Sam's half-consciously slurred question, and a quiet curse let him know Sam was gathering his thoughts together.

"Ugh…One sec, De'n. Hold on…one sec" A rustling sound followed by another louder, clearer curse had Dean imagining exactly what it was his brother was doing. He tracked Sam's movements in his mind based off the sounds he heard coming from his direction. The rustling was Sam's clothes, and the curse would be from Sam pulling his wounds as he stood up. A soft thump and a scuffing noise told him his brother was staggering over towards him, ignoring his own wounds. Dean growled his displeasure, trying to convey to Sam just what he thought of his idea.

"S'okay, Dean. I'm okay." Came Sam's soft reply, closer now to where Dean lie.

A thud sounded from right beside his ear a second before Sam came into his line of vision looking exhausted and in pain. His little brother was on his knees kneeling next to him, slouched over in pain, his face set in a grimace as he looked over what surely resembled ground meat. Hell, you could package Dean up and sell him for human hamburger meat with the way he probably looked now. The Mngwa would most likely enjoy that idea.

"God, Dean, you're a mess. There's so much blood…okay. Okay, don't worry. Don't worry. I've got this. You're gonna be okay. You're gonna be okay." Muttered Sam, and Dean was pretty sure he wasn't even aware he was repeating himself.

He watched in confusion as Sam started to pull his own shirt off, tugging violently when his blood kept it glued to his skin. When he finally managed to get the shirt off of him, fresh blood was dripping down his chest, the wounds having opened again due to his careless pulling. He frowned when Sam started to lean over him, not sure where Sam was going with this until he felt Sam's shaking hands tug him up so that his chest was suspended above the ground. He growled again low in his throat. _Stop it, Sam_.

"Shut up, Dean. I need to cover your wounds, and since we don't have any gauze with us, well then I have to use my shirt. Don't complain. I'll be fine." Sam said, glancing up at Dean's unhappy face.

Dean's eyes narrowed. _Cover your own wounds first, Bitch._

Sam huffed a pained laugh. "If I do that, then there won't be anything to use to cover yours, and these cuts are way worse than the one bite on my shoulder. I'm serious, Dean, I'll be fine. Worry about yourself for once, Jerk."

Dean rolled his eyes, hissing at the pain when Sam pulled the shirt around his chest and tied it tightly to staunch the sluggish flow of blood.

"Alright, man, I'm gonna have to carry you most of the way. We have seriously got to get out of here. I'm not sure why the Mngwa left us alive, but I'm not looking a gift horse in the mouth. Okay then, ready? This is going to hurt." Warned Sam as he grabbed one of Dean's arms in his hand, squeezing reassuringly before laying the pliant limb behind his neck. His other arm snaked around Dean's back to grab at the waistband of his jeans, tugging gently to make sure he had a good hold on the denim.

"You good?" Sam asked, hazel eyes searching Dean's green ones for any signs of hesitation, perfectly prepared to wait until he was ready.

Dean blinked. _Just get us out of here, Sasquatch._

Sam's barked laughter was enough to have Dean's lips twitching upwards in a small smile, the most he could manage at the moment. "Alright, alright. Sorry about this Dean." Sam's small apology was his only warning before they were suddenly vertical. Gravity seemed to be working against him, and the only thing that kept him standing was Sam's hand grabbing his jeans, and his arm slung over Sam's shoulders, his forearm grasped tightly in Sam's other hand.

"It's alright, I've got you. I've got you, Dean." Sam pulled him closer, letting him lean his weight against Sam's side. It was an uncomfortable angle though, and it tugged at the slash marks marring his chest, causing blinding pain to surge up and take him under again. Sam's muttered reassurances followed him down, letting him know that he'd be there when Dean woke up.

()()()()SPN()()()()

Sam knew the instant that Dean was going to pass out, he saw Dean's face screw up in pain and saw his eyes flutter momentarily before dropping closed. It was the only forewarning he needed to adjust his hold on his brother so that they didn't both go crashing to the ground. Sam braced himself accordingly, but still staggered slightly when he was suddenly left supporting the entirety of his brother's dead weight.

Hefting Dean up higher against him, Sam pushed past the throbbing pain in his shoulder, ignored the blood streaming down his bare chest, and determinedly pushed forward. He kept his ears alert for every sound that might seem out of place, and his eyes alert for every small movement around them that might indicate the Mngwa's return.

()()()()SPN()()()()

An hour passed of uneventful walking, and Sam was sure that his feet were only moving due to sheer stubbornness on his part. If he stopped for one second, he knew that his legs wouldn't be able to take one more step, so he kept walking, dragging Dean along next to him. His brother still showed no signs of waking, which only made it that much more difficult for Sam, but he knew his brother needed the rest, so he grinned and bore it.

Exhaustion was warring with pure stubbornness now though, and he wasn't so sure his stubborn streak was going to win this time. Several sleepless nights in a row were hard _enough_ to deal with. That combined with a gaping wound in his shoulder? Well it was seriously dragging him down. He almost gave in to the exhaustion, his pace slowing noticeably, and the ground was looking more and more comfortable by the minute. The only thing that stopped him was a small groan from Dean as his eyes blinked open again.

Sam cut his eyes down towards him, meeting Dean's searching gaze with a reassuring one of his own. He saw Dean's eyes narrow minutely, dragging up and down Sam's battered and tired body. Sam smiled softly at him.

"I'm fine, Dean. Really. Just a little tired is all, but I've been walking for a while now, so we're probably close to the Impala by now. I can rest once we get back to the motel and after I sew you up."

Dean's green eyes darkened, and he lifted his head to stare pointedly at Sam.

"Okay, okay. Calm down. I'll bandage myself up too, geez." Dean dropped his head again, satisfied. Several moments passed in silence as Sam continued to stagger forwards before Dean gathered up enough strength to take some of the weight off of Sam.

"Careful, Dean. I don't want you pulling those cuts open again. Just let me handle this." Sam said, concern lacing his voice.

A grunt was his only reply, and Sam wondered how Dean managed to convey so much through just a noise.

"I know you can do it, Dean. I'm not saying you can't. I'm just telling you to let me do this for once." Dean huffed, but complied, and fell back against Sam's side.

A break in the trees had both brothers sighing in relief, the dark black of the road standing out against the greens of the forest. Picking up his pace, Sam walked as fast as he could out of the darkness of the forest and onto the open asphalt of the old road. Dean audibly groaned in appreciation at the sight of the 1967 Chevy Impala, and even Sam had to admit the sight of the car brought a strong feeling of relief surging through his veins.

"Dean. Tell me where the keys are before I break the window to unlock the car. I have had enough of this creepy ass forest. If we don't ever come back here it would be too soon." Sam said, a tinge of hysteria entering his voice.

Dean raised an eyebrow in amusement and nodded his head towards his back pants pocket. Keeping a firm grip on Dean's forearm, he let go of Dean's jeans with his other hand and quickly reached into Dean's pocket, pulling the keys out triumphantly.

Moving them carefully over to the car, Sam let Dean use the Impala as support as he unlocked the car. Throwing the door open, he turned and grabbed Dean once again, carefully lowering him down into the leather seat. Once Dean was seated and belted in, Sam shut the door and all but ran over to the driver's side, tugging the door open and jumping into the car with a speed he shouldn't have been able to move at with his wounds.

Not wasting any time, he gunned the engine, ACDC's Back in Black blasting from the speakers, before executing a perfect U-turn and speeding back the way they came, leaving the dark forest in his rear-view mirror.

()()()()SPN()()()()

Sam gently wiped at the congealed blood coating his brother's chest, a pained groan breaking the tense silence. They were back in their motel room, Dean laid out on one of the beds as Sam wiped away the crimson blood covering his chest. The ugly purple sheets were slowly turning a dark red, and while it was a better color, it made Sam wish the damn sheets were still purple, because then the red would be back in his brother's body where it belonged.

"I know, Dean. Just once more. The pain meds should kick in soon. Then I'll start on the stitches."

Sam ran the holy water covered wash cloth down Dean's chest one more time, cringing with sympathy as the wounds bubbled and fizzed. Pouring the last of the holy water over Dean's chest, straight from the canteen this time, Sam exchanged the wet wash cloth for a dry one, sopping up the red water that ran down Dean's chest to soak into the sheets.

The fact that Dean didn't make a sound the entire time had Sam looking up worriedly, but he relaxed when he met Dean's dilated eyes, the pain meds having finally kicked in.

"Alright then, Dean. I'm gonna start on the stitches now. Feel free to pass out man, because it isn't gonna be pleasant."

The corner of Dean's mouth turned up, and he continued to stare at Sam.

"Okay, fine then. But you don't get to complain about the pain then, Dean." Dean's mouth turned up in a full smile this time, his green eyes gleaming at Sam. "Don't lie, Dean. You cried like a baby when Dad had to stitch you up after that werewolf hunt. I know you hate them."

The smile instantly fell off Dean's mouth, morphing into a scowl, and Sam knew he had Dean beat. Looking up from where he tied off the first stitch in his flesh, Sam tried to meet Dean's eyes, but he was refusing to look at Sam, instead staring at the ceiling like he could incinerate it with his mind. Sighing in reluctant acceptance at the fact Dean wasn't going to pass out, Sam started sewing Dean's torn flesh back together.

45 stitches later, Dean was still stubbornly conscious, glaring at Sam like he was to blame for the tears that involuntarily leaked from the corners of his eyes.

"Look, man, I told you it would hurt. You could have passed out if you wanted to, but nooo. You don't have anything to prove you know." Sam said, staring at Dean's tear streaked face from the chair he sat in across the room, still shirtless. He was starting to feel hot, but put it off as stress.

Dean narrowed his eyes at him, green orbs darting from Sam's face to his wounded shoulder and back again.

"I'll fix it later, Dean. Just go to sleep. I'm not moving until then. You need the rest. Hell, you just got clawed up by a supersized leopard. I think you need the beauty sleep, Dean. Don't want to scar now do you? Only so many chicks are gonna think it's hot to have four vertical claw marks running from your throat to your di-"

Dean groaned loudly, cutting him off mid-sentence. Sam laughed, dropping the subject.

"Yeah, love you too big brother."

It didn't even occur to him that Dean hadn't spoken a single word since they woke up in the forest. Maybe he should think it was weird that he was able to tell exactly what Dean said just from a series of grunts, groans, and growls, but he didn't. Not in the slightest.

**Yeah so this chapter was all fluff and H/C, but it's what I love best about the brothers, their relationship (not in a wincest-y way). So there you have it for chap. 3. Let me know what you think ~ Thorn**


	4. The Strange One

**Sorry for not updating yesterday. Real life got in the way sadly. So anyway, here's the next chapter~ I'm gonna be posting a new story btw, so that may affect how often this is updated, but it probably won't, just wanted to warn you in case I don't update every one or two days, I haven't given up on this story though so don't worry.  
>R&amp;R please!<br>Disclaimer: Still not owning them  
><strong> 

"We should call Bobby." Dean spoke up out of the blue, surrounded by the purple sheets that Sam had moved from his bed to replace the bloodstained ones from Dean's.

"Bobby? Why?" Sam asked from the chair he sat in across the room, the same one he was sitting in when Dean finally fell asleep last night. The same chair he had only vacated once in order to grab his laptop and start searching for more information.

"Well don't you think that if anyone were to know something about this thing, it would be Bobby?" Dean muttered from his cocoon of blankets, flipping over on the bed to face Sam. "I mean, it's obvious that we're…" He trailed off, suddenly going silent, and Sam glanced up from the computer to see Dean glaring at him.

"What?"

"You son of a bitch, Sam."

"What? Dean-"

"You promised me you'd take care of that, Sam!" Dean unburied an arm from the blankets and pointed accusingly at the bite mark on Sam's bare shoulder, dried blood crusted over the wound. "You said you'd take care of it! It's probably infected now. Dammit, Sam!" Sam looked down at the ragged holes circling his shoulder, surprise flashing across his face.

"Crap. Dean, I'm sorry, man. I just forgot about it, I swear."

"'Forgot' my ass, Sam! You don't 'forget' a damn Mngwa bite. Hell, it's still bloody. Come over here and let me see it. Now." Dean ordered, but Sam never was one to follow orders.

"No. Dean it's fine. Really. See?" Sam brought a hand up and pressed lightly over the wound. What he wasn't expecting, though, was the sudden flare of pain that shot up like ice over his skin. A yelp of pain fell unbidden from his lips, and the sound had Dean struggling to untangle himself from the sheets, spitting curses when he couldn't.

"Wait Dean. Stop. You'll pull the stitches." Muttered Sam weakly, biting his lip to stop another pained sound from spilling forth as the icy feeling spread down his chest.

"Screw the damn stitches, Sam! Dammit, come here. I need to see how bad it is."

Sam hesitated, chewing on his lip, but finally complied, standing from the chair and slowly shuffling his way closer to where Dean lay.

"Sit down." Dean commanded, patting the bed next to him.

He sighed, "I'm not a dog you know."

"Yeah well you won't be much of anything once I'm through kicking your ass after this, so it doesn't really matter. Sit." Dean threatened, and Sam knew from experience that he probably wasn't lying either.

Deciding not to test the waters any more than he already had, Sam sat on the bed next to him, his wounded shoulder faced towards his brother. Dean scooted up on the bed, leaning closer to Sam and peered closely at the bite.

"Dammit. It's definitely infected now." He growled angrily, but Sam could read the anger for what it really was: concern. Choosing the wiser path, Sam remained silent and still, suffering through Dean's mother-henning. "We need to flush this out with holy water."

He swallowed nervously. "Uh, Dean? I kinda used up all the holy water last night on your cuts."

"…So? Bless some more or something then."

"Um. It doesn't really work that way, remember? We kinda need a holy priest to bless water."

Dean cursed loudly this time, his fit hitting the bed forcefully in frustration. He ran his other hand through his short hair and down his face, a sure sign that he was worried. Silence settled over them for a while before Dean finally sighed.

"Okay well…just let me look at it then. We might be able to take care of it with peroxide." He leaned in closer again, his face deceptively calm, but Sam could easily read the worry that threatened to explode dancing under the surface.

A calloused hand landed lightly on his wounded shoulder, ice cold pain igniting under the touch, and he flinched away violently.

"Whoa, easy there, buddy. I won't touch it again, alright? But we seriously need to clean that out with holy water. If a Mngwa's claws have the holy water giving out a reaction, then I don't want to know what its teeth are gonna do. You could get some sort of supernatural disease from that for all you know. Tell me, you feeling anything? Because your skin is real hot." Dean said, leaning back away from Sam, wary of hurting his brother any more than he already had.

"Hot? I'm freezing." Sam's voice came out shaky with barely restrained pain, body shaking slightly with chills.

"You're cold? Damn. You've got a fever then. Alright that's it. We are so calling Bobby right now." Dean stated as he made to rise from the bed, but he only managed to get his chest clear of the covers before Sam was pressing a palm against his forehead, stopping his progress.

"I'll call him, Dean. Like it or not, your still in worse shape than I am. Don't move around yet or those wounds will open up again. Seriously, they'll scar worse than they're already going to if you insist on moving. I got this." Sam reassured as he stood from the bed before Dean could stop him. Walking on suddenly weak legs over to his bag, he reached in the pouch and retrieved his cellphone, flipping it open and dialing the number he had memorized. It had barely rung twice before a gruff voice was answering from the other end.

"_Ello? Who is it?"_

Sam smiled at the sound of the old hunter's voice. "Hey, Bobby, it's Sam Winchester."

"_Sam? What're you calling me for, boy? You and that brother of yours in some sort of trouble again?"_

"You could say that. Bobby, we need your help."

"_When do you idjits ever just call to say 'hello'? Alright, what is it?"_ Bobby's reluctant voice filtered through the phone.

"We're hunting a Mngwa in Minnesota, and well, we kinda got our asses kicked so we're currently holed up in our motel room. We were wondering if you knew of any way to kill these things."

"_The Mngwa? You idjits are huntin The Mngwa? Do you have a death wish or somethin? You realize that the Mngwa is one of a kind, right? There is no other."_ Bobby said, fear present in his tone.

"It is? No, Bobby, we weren't aware that it was one of a kind. But even if it is, why is that so bad? We can still kill it, right?" Sam glanced over worriedly at Dean, who was sitting up in the bed and staring at the phone as if he could hear the words just from looking hard enough.

"_Boy, ain't nothing invincible. Of course you can kill it, but it's gonna be hella hard. The Mngwa is one of three legendary beasts spoken of in a Swahili song. The name means 'The Strange One', and it's described along with the lion Simba and the leopard Nsui. You said that you and your brother got your asses kicked? Well you should be lucky that the thing didn't scratch or bite you, or you'd be six feet under by now."_ Sam glanced at Dean again, worry gnawing at his stomach.

"Uh, Bobby, it scratched Dean. And bit me."

"_It did what? It got you and you're still breathing air? Well, kid, I'd like to say that that's a good thing, but I'm not too sure it is. The only reason that the Mngwa would leave you alive is if it wanted you alive for a reason, and I can promise you it won't be anything good."_

"Alright, Bobby. I get it, we're screwed. Do you know of anything that can kill this thing or not? Because I'd really like to kill this bitch now. We already know iron rounds are useless. Dean shot about five off into the thing and it didn't even react, so you got anything else for us?" Sam questioned as he began to pace restlessly. All the news Bobby had given him so far just managed to dig them even further into the hole that was 'screwed'.

"_Well I might have something. I heard that the Mngwa has a weakness for fire. As you probably know, the Mngwa can't survive outside the forest, so anything that might destroy its forest can destroy it. Hence, fire. But I don't want either of you idjits doing anything else reckless. You sit tight and wait until I get there, you're gonna need the help."_

Sam sighed in relief, happy to know that the Mngwa could be killed, and turned to Dean, mouthing "Fire" at him before turning his attention back to what Bobby was saying. Something about waiting until he got there.

"Yeah, we'll wait here till you come. I don't think Dean's up to much movement anyways."

Bobby grunted his approval and hung up the phone without another word, no doubt moving to pack his few necessities and start the drive up to Minnesota. Snapping the phone shut and tossing it back into his bag, Sam turned back to where Dean sat in the bed, leaning against the headrest.

"Ok. So, apparently we're dealing with a legendary monster, as in a one-of-a-kind kinda monster. Also, Bobby says we're in deep shit and that fire can kill this thing." Sam summarized for Dean, heading into the bathroom to wet a washcloth. Dean's eyes followed his progress until he was in the hidden from view before speaking up.

"So he wants us to, what, stay put until he gets here?"

"Generally, yes. You know, it's a smart idea, Dean. We're gonna need some extra help on this one, not to mention that you can't exactly stand right now. So yeah, we're staying here until Bobby comes." Turning on the faucet, he wet the washcloth and brought it up to his wounded shoulder, gently running it over the bite to clean the dried blood away.

"Well joy. What are we supposed to do for…however long it's gonna take him to get here." Dean's bored voice came from the other room.

Biting back the groan of pain that threatened to slip through, Sam continued to wash the blood free from his skin, red tinged water running into the sink to disappear down the drain.

"I don't know Dean, figure something out."

A groan of annoyance was his only answer, but a few seconds later the background noise of the T.V. met his ears. Fake screams played from the T.V, and the unmistakable sound of Godzilla roaring had his brother laughing.

"Guess what, Sam. It's Godzilla vs. Mothra. Love this movie."

Sam shook his head slightly, smiling fondly. It amazed him how the simplest things managed to catch his brother's attention.

Looking back into the mirror that hung askew on the cracked wall, he ran the washcloth over the wound one more time, not liking how the skin was puffy and red. With a final swipe of the washcloth, the holes marring his shoulder were blood free, but now he could see just how bad it looked. The holes went almost all the way through his shoulder and the flesh looked raw and painful, but it didn't hurt nearly as much as it should have.

Putting it off for the moment, he instead grabbed a bandage from the first aid kit that sat under the sink and wrapped it over the wound tightly, wincing when the cold pain flared through him once again. Sam gave his finished work a cursory look before deeming it okay and moving back out into the room. He glanced over at his smiling brother whose green eyes staring fixatedly at the screen as Godzilla stepped on a cardboard box masquerading as a building.

Shaking his head again, he made his way over to the other bed and dropped heavily down on it, mashing his face into the pillow. His eyes closed against the comforting noise of Dean's laughter, exhaustion pulling him down despite his attempts at staying awake. Caffeine could only keep you going for so long. The sounds of the T.V. faded into the background, and eventually faded completely as sleep took him down.

()()()()SPN()()()()

He was on the beach. The waves sparkling like millions of diamonds under the sun. The warm sand rand in between his toes and tickled the soles of his bare feet. Seagulls cried overhead, swooping low and skimming over the surface of the shining water. It was beautiful, but not as beautiful as the woman that stood next to him.

Her golden hair matched perfectly with the vibrant blue ocean and her laughter melded together with the roar of the waves like a melody of happiness. Her blue eyes sparkled brighter than the water and the sun had nothing on her blinding smile.

Her hand was curled in his, swinging back and forth to a rhythm only she knew. She cocked her head to the side, golden curls falling around her shoulders and laughter dancing in her eyes.

"Isn't it beautiful here, Sam?" The sound of her voice had his heart soaring as high as the clouds.

"It sure is beautiful, Jess." He said softly, his eyes locked on her glowing form.

She smiled that blinding smile at him again, and slipped her hand out of his, running ahead of him to stand in the waves. Her hair billowed out around her face, blowing gently in the breeze. The sight of her beautiful figure standing with the sparkling waves at her back had him wondering momentarily if he had died and gone to heaven.

She continued to smile at him, extending her hand towards him in invitation. A dimpled smile broke out on his own face as he walked after her, hand extended towards her own. He should have known it was too good to be real. He should have realized the cliché situation he was currently in, with his hand reaching towards hers, mere inches separating them, but he was too caught up in the moment.

He froze when suddenly her hand burst into flames, the red fire licking up the length of her arm, eating away her flesh and turning her beautiful skin the charred black of death.

Her hand was soon completely consumed, blackened bones the only thing left. It was still extended towards him, as if daring him to grab the Grim Reaper's hand. His mouth dropped open in horror, a scream lodging in his throat as he stumbled back from the burning figure.

Jess's head cocked to the side again, but it didn't look cute this time. Not with fire melting the flesh of her face and catching in her hair, setting her golden curls to flame. He stumbled back another step, but this time the burning figure of Jess followed him, matching his step back with a forward step of her own.

The blackened bones that used to be her arms reached towards him, her face resembling a skull more than a human now. Her mouth opened, fire licking from between her teeth.

"Why don't you love me, Sam? Why did you leave me to die?" She accused, stepping forward once more before the brittle bone of her leg snapped in half, dropping her to her knees in the sand.

Turning her eyes up towards him, her face just a burned skull now, flaming hair darting wildly in the wind, she stared at him as if waiting for an answer. Her blue eyes were the only part of her body not consumed by flames, and they stood out even more against her charred skin.

She would never get an answer though, because in the next moment his eyes snapped open, chest heaving for air. He immediately looked around the room until his eyes fell on the sleeping form of Dean. He must have sacked out not too soon after Sam fell asleep.

He was contemplating waking his brother when a knock on the door had his decision made for him. Dean's eyes flew open, locking first on the door, then on Sam. Nodding his understanding, Sam rolled off the bed soundlessly, grabbing his Glock from the table on his way to the door.

Holding the weapon at the ready, he cautiously peered through the peep-hole before visibly relaxing. He tucked the gun into the back waistband of his pants and pulled the door open.

"Hey, Bobby. That was fast. You must have broken a few speed limits to make it here." Sam noted as the seasoned hunter came through the door, shutting it behind him.

"Well I wouldn't have had to if you boys didn't decide to be a bunch of idjits and try to mess with a Mngwa." Bobby grumbled, setting down his bag of stuff on the small table and moving to stand in front of the bed Dean was laid up on. "Look at you Dean. Bedridden because you two had to go and jump the gun on this."

Dean's face screwed up in surprise at being scolded and he opened his mouth to say something, but Bobby cut him off before he could get a word out.

"I don't want to hear it. Now just listen here, the only rumored way to kill this thing is with fire, so I came prepared." Bobby reached into his duffel bag and pulled out an impressive looking flamethrower.

"Well damn. Guess that'll do the job. What do you say we torch this son of bitch, Sammy?"

"I say let's."

()()()()SPN()()()()

Those foolish sheep. They plan my death, but I've been around for millennia. No matter. Let the sheep play. Let them plan. Let them prepare, and when they finally come to confront me, then I shall show them how a real hunter hunts. I will make you fear, sheep. I will make you suffer. Only then will I feast on your flesh, for what better taste is there than meat tinged with fear. What better sight is there than that of the light dying from frightened eyes. You think you can kill me, sheep? I look forward to seeing you try.

**So nothing much happened this chapter, but Bobby is here now, and now they have an idea of how to kill the thing, so I promise more action next chapter. Let me know what you think~ Thorn.**


	5. Chill me to the bone

**So sorry that I haven't updated in a while. I'm currently juggling a few fics but I promise that I'm not giving up on this one. Anyways, let's not hear my excuses. Here's the next chapter  
>R&amp;R please!<br>Disclaimer: Do I even need to say it anymore? I still don't own them...**

The sun rose over the two hunters, climbing higher and higher into the sky as if it were running from the events about to take place below.

Sam stood tall next to the older hunter Bobby, dark green stretching out in front of them for miles. The looming silhouettes of trees stood like millions of hands reaching for the sky, clawed fingers grasping at the fleeing sun.

Dean was in the car. Walking still posed too much of a strain on his wounded chest, but since he insisted on being there anyways, he was confined to sitting in the car with his phone serving as his only form of communication. He demanded that Sam stay in touch via texting like Sam had demanded the other night, or else he threatened that he would drive the car through the damn woods if he had to. His exact words.

In order to appease his brother's worry, Sam agreed to Dean's compromise, and so here he was standing at the beginning of the Mngwa's trail with a flare gun in one hand, and his cellphone in the other. Bobby was currently armed with the flamethrower he had shown off yesterday, and the weapon was practically as big as the hunter himself.

"You ready, Bobby?" Sam's hand tightened around the flare gun as his shoulder flared up in pain again.

"I'm ready to deep fry this thing, but how bout you, Sam? I can tell your hurting." Bobby shifted slightly, his eyes worried.

"I'm fine. I just want this thing dead." Conversation closed, Sam lifted the flare gun and pointed it out in front of him as he started up the trail. He wasn't half-assing things this time. No, now that he knew what they were up against, he wasn't going to even give the Mngwa time to fully show itself before he was lighting it up.

Bobby huffed once in reply and followed after Sam at a slower pace, watching their six too.

Birds of every hue in the rainbow sat and watched the two hunters as they stalked deeper and deeper into the woods. Black, beady eyes followed their progress from the branches.

Sam's phone vibrated in his hand and startled him so bad that he actually jumped. He seconds away from flinging the vibrating object into the woods, but then realization clicked into place and he laughed at himself silently. He was so concentrated on their surroundings that he had totally forgotten he was even carrying his phone in the first place. Shaking his head, he looked down at the phone clenched tightly in his hand and flipped it open.

"_Sam we had an agreement. It's been an hour. If you don't reply to this in the next minute I am so driving up there._"

Sam rolled his eyes, typing, "_Wait a second, geez. We're fine. The Mngwa still hasn't shown yet. I'll update you again once we've torched its bones._"

The reply came in less than a minute. "_You better. I swear if you don't..._" Dean left the threat open for Sam's imagination.

"Pay attention, Sam. This thing can pop up at any second. It's not the time to be texting your brother." Bobby chided from behind him, but he had a point.

"Okay, okay. I'm putting it away." True to his word, Sam slipped the phone into his pocket. "I just wish it would show soon. I want to get this over with."

"Me too, ya idjit."

Sam smiled, glad that Bobby was there with them. The older hunter really was like a father to them, sometimes more so than their Dad ever was. A memory rose up of years ago, when Dean was supposed to go shooting with Bobby only to come back and tell Sam all about the great day they had at the park tossing a baseball. If Sam didn't love Bobby for anything else, he would love him for that one moment of normal he gave Dean.

Sam was rudely pulled from his thoughts when a deep growl ripped through the woods in front of him. He wouldn't forget that sound for the rest of his life, not after what happened the last time he heard it.

"Balls!" Sam heard Bobby shout a mere moment before a blur of gray was rocketing out of the underbrush and colliding with his chest. The force of the blow was enough to launch him back a few feet, his breath exploding out of his lungs when he landed painfully on the dirt ground.

When his vision cleared, he was met with the sight of curved teeth smiling wickedly at him and pink eyes staring fixatedly at his wounded shoulder, a gaping hole centered between them from the final bullet Dean got off. The smell of rotting flesh assaulted his nose and made him gag.

He didn't even have time to lift the flare gun before the Mngwa was biting deep into his flesh again, tearing a scream from Sam's lips as it ripped new holes in his already wounded shoulder. The pain was like nothing he had ever felt before. It was excruciatingly cold and it ran the whole length of his body, chilling him to the bone and slowing the flow of blood through his veins.

Through the haze of pain, Sam belatedly realized that the Mngwa's teeth most likely held some sort of poison, because no wound should be able to do what the Mngwa's teeth could.

Suddenly the weight crushing his chest was gone, and heat was flaring over him, warming his skin. After several seconds of pain induced confusion, he realized that the Mngwa was no longer biting him, even though the pain still lingered, and he realized that the heat was actually coming from Bobby's flamethrower.

Mind clearing, Sam managed to push up on his elbows, bringing the flare gun up and tracking the Mngwa's movements with it, ready to pull the trigger the moment it gave an opening.

He followed its movements as the Mngwa dodged around the flames that Bobby shot at it, dancing along their edge almost playfully. It would run in towards Bobby only to retreat again when the stream of fire got too close. Maybe it did have a weakness.

Bobby swung the hose of the flamethrower in a horizontal movement, forcing the Mngwa closer to Sam. Luckily, the path was wide enough that the move didn't have the trees bursting into flames. The last thing they needed at the moment was a forest fire on their hands.

Apparently the Mngwa decided that playtime was over then, because in the next moment it was lunging at Bobby with a speed not even Sam's hunter trained eyes could follow. Fear for the older hunter had his finger tightening on the trigger of the flare gun, sending a burning ball rocketing towards him, but for once luck was on their side.

Where the flare would have hit Bobby before, it instead hit the Mngwa square in the back when the beast leapt at him. Its gray fur immediately burst into orange flames and the Mngwa screamed in pain. Sam could tell because the creature screamed like a human. It was a completely human sound, and if anyone else were on that trail they would have thought a child was screaming, because that's what it sounded like. It was the most horrid sound he had ever heard.

With its fur burning, the Mngwa leapt away from Bobby, hate filled eyes glaring at them before it darted away into the forest.

"Damn. We can't let it get away, Bobby. Go! I'll be right behind you." Sam reassured as he struggled to stand.

"You better be, kid." Bobby hastily replied, already taking off after the Mngwa.

After a few failed attempts at standing, Sam finally managed to find his feet and he stood up from the bloodstained ground. Tossing his used flare gun in the dirt, he pulled the second one from the waistband of his jeans and took a shaky step forward only to find himself on the ground again.

The pain in his shoulder was causing a sweat to break out on his forehead, and the poisoned bite was so cold it was burning now.

Getting his arms underneath him, he pushed up again, his wounded arm buckling underneath him, but he still managed to get standing again. Biting his lip to help with the pain, Sam stepped off the dirt path and into the forest, picking up his pace until he was jogging after the direction that Bobby and the Mngwa had disappeared in.

Broken off branches and crushed leaves marked the path they took, and Sam stumbled along it, hoping that they hadn't gone too far.

Twenty minutes of staggered running later, there was still no sign of Bobby or the Mngwa and he was pretty sure that he had lost their trail.

Pulling his phone out of his pocket with shaking hands, his head swimming with sudden nausea, he blearily typed what he hoped was a coherent sentence to Dean. Not a minute later, his phone buzzed in answer. Obviously Dean had nothing else to do other than stare at his phone until he got a text.

"_What do you mean you lost Bobby? You're saying that you're out there alone in the forest without Bobby and a pissed off Mngwa is somewhere out there with you? I don't think so, Sammy. Get back to the trail. I'm driving up there._"

Sam struggled to type another reply. He was seriously feeling ill now, and chills were racking his body despite the heat. "_Don't think I can, Dean. The Mngwa got me again. Not feeling too hot right now._"

He had barely sent the message when his phone was buzzing again.

"_It got you again? Dammit, Sam. Seriously, get your ass back to the trail. We'll come back later._"

"_No. Not leaving Bobby._" Sam typed back in reply, ending the conversation by snapping the phone shut and putting it back in his pocket.

He looked around the forest tiredly, hoping that Bobby would just miraculously pop up out of nowhere. The surprising thing was that he did. One moment Sam was alone and the next he wasn't. Bobby came sprinting from the woods, running faster than Sam had ever seen someone of that age run. The flamethrower was gone, probably abandoned in favor of speed.

"Sam! There you are, boy! Hurry up! That things coming back this way and it isn't happy." Bobby yelled as he ran past Sam.

Sure enough, about a second later crashing from ahead signaled the Mngwa's return, and an angry roar had Sam spinning around and stumbling after Bobby.

Trees raced past him at a sickening pace, their colors blending together dizzyingly. Vertigo assaulted him, almost dropping him to the ground again, but pure instinct was keeping him running now. His vision swam dangerously, and for a moment he thought he was going to pass out as his sight darkened.

His foot caught on a stone then and succeeded in tripping him, slamming him into the ground. It was just his screwy luck that he landed on his bitten shoulder.

Frigid pain shot up and whited out his vision, stealing his breath. He would have screamed if he had enough air to, but since he didn't, he lay on the ground and panted instead. He didn't know how long he stayed like that, but when his senses finally returned to him, he noticed that the crashing noises had stopped and silence now fell over him. Opening an eye, he peered around his surroundings, hoping that the Mngwa had just passed him by.

If he ever got that lucky, he'd win the lottery.

His blue-green eye landed on gray. It filled his field of vision. Slowly looking up, he met angry pink orbs that glared down at him with sick satisfaction spinning in their depths.

The Mngwa made to bite him again, its jaws opening and lowering over him again, but this time Sam was faster. With a speed born from fear, his arm shot up and he shoved the flare gun into the Mngwa's mouth, pulling the trigger.

The flare exploded in its jaws and fire licked out, eating at the fur on the Mngwa's face. It screamed in pain again, rearing back and shaking its head like a dog. Broken shards of ivory teeth dropped from its mouth to land on the ground in front of its face.

Sam pushed to his feet while the beast was distracted and watched as the flames started melting the skin on the Mngwa's face. It turned outraged eyes on him and took a step towards him, mouth opening to reveal broken fangs and a burned tongue.

"You. A sheep. A pathetic sheep dares to kill me? Dares to do what no other has ever done? The sheep who brought me here…he promised me this land…he said no hunters would come so long as I killed who he said to kill…I curse…you…sheep. You will…all die…horribly… stupid sheep." The Mngwa took one more step towards him before collapsing on the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.

Sam stood frozen in shock as silence settled over the forest again. Even the birds were silent; the only noise that could be heard was from the crackling fire as it continued to eat up the remains of the Mngwa.

So someone _had_ brought it here, and not only that, but they were telling the Mngwa which people to kill? The news surprised Sam, and he decided that he should probably get back to the trail and the Impala before he collapsed, so that he could tell Dean what he learned.

Turning drunkenly, Sam started back towards the trail, following the obvious direction Bobby had run in as the sun began to set on the horizon, apparently deeming it safe to return now that the Mngwa was dead.

**()()()()SPN()()()()**

Headlights broke through the line of trees, illuminating his path towards the dirt trail. Dean had obviously decided to live up to his word and drove up the dirt path like he had threatened. Sam was secretly grateful for that fact as he wasn't sure if he could have made it all the way back down the trail anyway.

Night was falling and the first few stars were just starting to appear in the sky as he finally stepped out from the woods and onto the path once again.

"Finally! God, Sam, were you planning on sleeping out here or something? The Mngwa is still out there somewhere and you said yourself how much better it gets at hunting at night. Hurry up and come over here." Dean's worried voice came from the big black car that stood in front of him.

He blinked sluggishly. "No, D'n. Mngwa s' dead. Killed the…the bitch. S'okay." He slurred, eyes drooping.

"Sam? Sammy? You okay? Come here, Sam. We're gonna get you back to the motel, alright?" Dean's voice sounded like it was coming from the end of a tunnel.

Sam blinked again and he tried to take a step forward, but his legs could no longer support his weight, and he fell to his knees in the dirt. He was distantly aware of his brother and Bobby shouting his name, but he was in pain and tired, and the ground was looking better than any bed at the moment.

He heard footsteps racing his way, but he was too tired to see what was running towards him. Instead, he pitched forward, not even caring that he was going to fall face-first into the dirt. He never did though, because before he could fall, strong, familiar arms were grabbing him and holding up. Whispered words of comfort were the last thing he heard before the darkness swallowed him up and the pain finally disappeared.

**I'm thinking maybe one or two more chapters after this. Thanks to all of you who are reading this story, and thanks for the positive reviews. It really makes me think that maybe I don't suck at writing lol. So anyway, let me know what you think~Thorn**


	6. Holding On

**Gah! School has been getting in the way and everything, so sorry for not updating earlier.  
>R&amp;R please!<br>Disclaimer: Same as usual**

"Sam!"

The cry had barely left his lips when he was already flinging the door open and jumping out, ignoring the painful pull of stitches as he went vertical.

Hell, the pain didn't even register. All that mattered right then was getting to his wounded brother as fast as humanly possible, maybe even faster, because it was _Sam_ standing there in obvious pain, and if anything could get him moving, it was that.

The headlights illuminated the too pale figure of his brother as he dropped to knees in the dirt and started to pitch forward, his eyes falling closed.

Dean had already let it come to this, had already let Sam's _injuries_ come to this. There was no way in hell he wasn't catching his brother this time, because that's what Dean did. He'd always be there to catch Sam when he fell, literally and figuratively.

His arms encircled Sam protectively, preventing him from landing face-first in the dirt.

"It's okay, Sammy. I've got you now. I've got you. You're gonna be okay. I'm gonna patch you up and then we can laugh about this whole thing in a few days, alright?" Dean prattled on more for his own benefit than Sam's, seeing as Sam was mostly unconscious now anyway.

"Alright. You're okay. Come on, let's get you to the Impala." He kept up his meaningless litany of comforting words as he hefted Sam over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. It worried him when the movement elicited no response from his brother, spurring him on to move faster back to the car.

"How's he doin?" Bobby asked worriedly from the back seat, leaning over to open the passenger door for him.

"Not too hot, Bobby. Literally. He's practically frozen right now and it's not even that cold out. I really need to take a look at him when we get back to the motel."

Dean dropped Sam into the seat, belting him in and draping a blanket over his shivering form.

He cursed at the fresh blood saturating Sam's wounded shoulder and gently lifted the torn shirt to access the damage. He swore colorfully when he saw a new row of bloody holes set just beneath the old ones.

Stripping off his over shirt, he hastily wrapped it around Sam's newly injured shoulder, sloppily tying it to help staunch the flow of blood that ran like rivers down his arm and chest.

Once he was satisfied that Sam was as comfortable as he was going to get, Dean shut the door and ran over to the other side, jumping into the still-running car and grabbing the wheel, driving in reverse the whole way back down the trail.

**()()()()SPN()()()()**

"How's he doing?" Dean asked for the fifth time in the last minute, glancing over at his pale brother once again and not liking how his breath was coming short and shallow.

"The same as he was the last four times you asked, Dean. Look, just try concentrating on the road for now so we don't end up in a ditch somewhere, ya idjit." Bobby tossed back from where he was leaning over Sam, checking the bite for himself. "Damn…"

Dean glanced away from the road again to stare at Bobby. "Damn? What does that mean? What does 'damn' mean, Bobby? Because it doesn't sound good." The Impala hit a pothole and the whole car jerked to the side, forcing Dean's eyes back on the road. The last thing they all needed right now was a crashed car on top of everything.

"It _means_ that your brother is in trouble, Dean. I had my suspicions, but…" Bobby trailed off as he leaned closer to the wound, peering at it almost fearfully.

"But? Come on, Bobby. Tell me. This is Sam." Dean practically pleaded, but he didn't even care at the moment. He was willing to do the damn salsa dance if it meant that Bobby would spit it out already.

"But it looks like this bite is poisoned, Dean. The Mngwa must have had a kind of venom coating its teeth or something." Bobby picked up from where he left off, laying it all out for Dean.

"Fuck!" Dean swore angrily, hitting the steering wheel. He was silent for a few moments before he spoke up again."Fine. It's poisoned. So, what? We take him to the hospital and they give him an antidote or antibiotics or something."

Bobby cleared his throat and sat back in his own seat, done with his triage of Sam's injury. "What do you think we'd tell them? 'Oh, sorry, but my friend here got bitten by a poisonous tiger. Do you have an antidote for that?' Sorry Dean, but I think we're on our own for this one."

He was about to swear again when a quiet groan had his attention drawn away from the road and onto his brother once again.

"Sammy? Come on, man, wake up for me. Open those eyes. Come on." Dean's eyes swiveled back and forth between his brother and the road as he waited for a reaction from Sam.

Bobby's eyebrows scrunched together slightly in confusion. "Dean? You alright, boy? Sam didn't do anything."

"Yeah he did. He made a noise just now. You didn't hear him?"

"Dean, I'm sittin right behind the kid and I didn't hear anything. You sure you're feeling okay?" Bobby moved to put a hand on Dean's forehead, but stopped when Sam groaned again, louder this time.

"See Bobby? I'm not insane, alright?" Dean replied indignantly before returning his attention to his wounded sibling. "Sammy? That's it, man. You're almost there."

Sam's groan was pain-filled this time, and he attempted to roll over in order to take the pressure off of his shoulder, but was thwarted by the seat belt. His hazel eyes shot open, feverish and glassy, and he thrashed weakly in the seat as he attempted to free himself from the restraining force.

"Whoa there, Sam! Calm down. You're okay, alright? It's just the seatbelt, dude. Calm down before you hurt yourself even worse."

The words seemed to soothe Sam, or maybe it was just Dean's voice, but either way Sam stopped thrashing and relaxed back into the leather. He turned shiny blue-green eyes on Dean, and Dean read the message in them as clear as if Sam had spoken out loud.

"Yeah its okay. We're gonna get you all patched up, Sammy. Don't worry." The words were apparently all Sam needed to hear, because in the next moment his eyes were falling closed again and his chin dipped down to rest on his chest.

Dean was just about to call out to him again when his eyes snapped open and his head shot up, alarm apparent in every movement. He turned towards Dean and opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it again without saying anything. He did it again then bit his lip, a nervous habit he reverted back to when he was injured.

"What is it, Sam?" Dean asked patiently, ignoring Bobby's warnings to watch the road. No one was driving out here at this time of night anyways, so who cares if he was driving on the wrong side of the road? Sam needed his attention right now, so screw the damn road.

"D-dean…the…the Mngwa. It said…that someone…sent it here. It told me that…that it was killing people someone told it to kill. We…were right…someone's behind this…and they didn't want…anyone up that trail…for some…reason." Sam said in a startling moment of lucidity before his eyes glazed over again and he sank back into the seat, exhausted and panting.

"What? It told you that? Sam? Sammy? Did it tell you who?"

Sam just shook his head, spent from all the talking he did but still managed to look disappointed.

"Alright. That's alright. Bobby and I'll figure it out okay? You just rest for a while until we get back to the motel."

Sam nodded and gladly complied, falling asleep mere seconds after his eyes closed. Bobby huffed from the backseat.

"I'll be damned. You boys must have a mental link or something. It still manages to amaze me after all these years. Don't think I've ever seen anyone with the kind of bond you and your brother share. Don't ever lose that, Dean. No matter what." There wasn't even a trace of anything teasing in the old hunter's tone.

Dean glanced in the rearview mirror at Bobby, slightly touched, and honestly responded, "I would rather die."

Bobby nodded in approval and sat back in the seat again, arms folded over his chest. A comfortable silence fell over them then, and Dean decided to humor Bobby by returning his attention to the road once again, pressing harder on the gas. The Impala complied with a growl as she sped up, eating up the asphalt and racing back towards the motel.

**()()()()SPN()()()()**

"Could you grab me some extra blankets from the car, Bobby? Sam's like a popsicle." Dean asked as he dropped Sam on the motel bed and wrapped him in the purple sheets like a burrito, leaving his upper half exposed.

Bobby grunted his acquiescence and stepped out of the motel room, returning minutes later with his arms loaded with multi-colored blankets of varying thicknesses.

"Thanks." Dean said sincerely as Bobby dropped the bundle of blankets over Sam. Rearranging the blankets, he moved them down so that they only covered Sam's waist and legs, leaving his chest uncovered so that they could work.

"You're gonna need to cut that shirt off of him. His arm ain't gonna be putting up with any movement at the moment, and who knows if that would help the poison spread faster. God knows that that's the last thing the kid needs right now." Bobby helpfully suggested.

"I know, Bobby. I've taken care of Sam before." Dean replied somewhat nastily, grabbing the scissors from the first aid kit and setting to work on cutting off the shirt.

"Dean-" Bobby started to say, but Dean cut him off quickly.

"I know, Bobby. I'm sorry. It's just…I hate it when he's hurt, you know? I feel like it's my fault. Like I should have been there to stop it." Dean guiltily said, pulling the split shirt away from his brother's chest.

"You idjit. It's not your fault, Dean. Shit like this happens all the time. It's just part of being a hunter."

"I know it is. I just wish it didn't have to be for Sam. He's been through so much lately, and now this? I feel like I'm failing him, Bobby." Dean sounded all but ten years old now, like a child seeking reassurance from a parent.

"Dean. Boy, you know that ain't true. Your brother looks up to you. He needs you just as much as you need him. You've never failed that boy before, you plan on failing him now?" It was all the push Dean needed.

His green eyes hardened with determination and the lost look faded from their depths. "Never." He stated simply.

Bobby smiled to himself, glad he could provide Dean with the means to keep going, and moved over to the bed to help Dean as he pulled various things from the small first aid box.

They worked in silence for a while; Dean muttering small nothings to Sam and touching his good shoulder every now and then to stop Sam's unconscious shifting as they wiped the blood away from the wound.

When the bite was blood free, Dean turned to pull out an empty flask of holy water from his duffel bag and swore loudly upon realizing it was empty. He threw the useless canteen back into his bag and turned back to Sam, that hopeless look surfacing in his eyes again.

Bobby reaching into his own duffel bag and pulled out his flask, handing it to Dean. "Here. Use this."

Strong relief shone in Dean's green orbs and he thankfully grabbed the flask from Bobby, unscrewing the cap and holding the bottle over the infected holes in Sam's shoulder.

"Sorry bout this Sammy." He muttered apologetically before pouring the contents over the wound.

The reaction was violent and instantaneous. Sam screamed in pain and arched off the bed, limbs thrashing weakly, but Dean was already there to restrain him, minimizing his jerky movements.

"Easy there, Sammy. I just have to flush it out. It's poisoned, bro, so I gotta clean it out. Just hang on." Dean hated to see Sam in pain, especially pain that he was causing, however necessary it was.

The flailing slowed, and eventually stopped. Sam sank into the bed, exhausted and pliant, but his eyes were open now and they roamed the room dazedly until they found what they were searching for.

"D'n." Sam's weak greeting was like music to his ears.

"Heya, Sammy boy. How you feeling?" It was an unnecessary question since Sam's pinched expression told him enough already, but he was desperate to keep Sam talking.

"Mmm. Like I've been bitten by an overgrown feline, then dumped in Arctic waters." Sam replied softly, voice hoarse from screaming.

"Smart ass. I'm serious here. That bite was poisoned, Sam. I'm not sure holy water is going to cut it. We might need to find an antidote. Holy water will just stave it off for a while." Dean said seriously, but he couldn't keep the relief from showing in his voice.

"Ugh. Well…I feel really cold right now. Like something is freezing me from the inside out." Sam replied honestly, grimacing in pain and reaching his uninjured arm up to rub his hand over his heart.

Worry shot through Dean's own heart like a bullet, and he turned concerned eyes to where Bobby had retreated. The older hunter was sitting at the table by the window, Sam's laptop open in front of him and he stared at the screen in concentration.

"Crap. Not good, Dean. It says here that the Mngwa's teeth _do_ hold venom, and that the venom acts similar to hypothermia, just at a quickened pace, and from the inside instead. We're gonna need to find an antidote and fast, or else it'll stop your brother's heart."

Fear joined the worry now, a second bullet that left his heart bleeding on the floor.

"Well where can we find an antidote for this? I doubt they just carry them in hospitals." Dean's stoic mask fell into place, hiding his real emotions from Sam under a veil of calm. He didn't want to end up freaking him out, so he had to convince Sam that this didn't freak_ him_ out.

"I don't know, Dean. I'm working on it." Bobby turned his attention back to his search on the computer.

"Well work faster, Bobby. Dammit! How do you know this thing doesn't kill you in a day? By the time you get the damn antidote, Sam could be dead!" Dean's worry got the best of him, and the words were out of his mouth before he had a chance to stop them.

He winced slightly and turned slowly to Sam, fearing what he would see in Sam's eyes, but was thoroughly surprised when all he could see in Sam's expression was thoughtful contemplation.

"Sam? What is it?"

"Well it's just…see, I've been thinking. If this thing's bite is poisonous, then that would run the risk of the person who brought it here getting bitten. I mean, they couldn't have expected to just bring the Mngwa here from its original home and have it be all fine and dandy with that, so he should have expected that the Mngwa might bite him at some point, right?" Sam asked, eyes determined even as his voice grew softer with each word.

"That's right. If this bitch was thinking like that, then that means he should have stocked up on the antidote, just in case he _did_ get bitten at some point. Smart thinking, Sammy. Glad you're on my side. It helps to have Mr. College Boy do all the hard thinking for you."

Sam only rolled his eyes at Dean as he shifted on the bed, face contorting in pain. His hand rubbed at his sternum again, longer this time.

"Sammy? You okay?"

Sam grimaced again, slight panic creeping into his eyes as he turned them on Dean. The look he shot Dean was pleading and scared, and it pulled at his heart. The words that left his brother's mouth then had his blood freezing in his veins and his heart hammering in uncontrolled fear.

"Dean…I-I can't…breathe." Sam whispered as his breath stuttered in his lungs. Dean watched in horror as Sam struggled to take another breath, his chest rising slowly and falling again. It practically had his own heart stopping in his chest as Sam's chest failed to raise again, his hazel eyes fluttering closed.

"Sam!" Dean and Bobby yelled in unison, but there was no reaction from the youngest Winchester. His chest remained still and his lungs refused to fill with life giving oxygen. Sam wasn't breathing.

**Damn. Well I fully intended on making this chapter longer, but I wanted to get it up by today. I promise that the next chapter will be up soon, so until then, let me know what you think. ~Thorn**


	7. Marching On

**I won't give excuses this time lol. Here's the last chapter. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! It means a helluva lot. XD  
>R&amp;R please!<br>Disclaimer: Not even if the world ended would I ever own them.**

"Sam! Don't you dare die on me. Don't you dare leave me too." Dean pleaded as he continued compressions on his unresponsive brother. Bobby hovered near the bed, watching Sam with worry, but he let Dean take control of the situation.

"Breathe dammit! Breathe!" Dean pushed on his brother's still chest, trying to force Sam's frozen lungs to cooperate. Salty tears were starting to pool in his eyes as seconds went by with no response. In a moment of hopeless frustration, he hit Sam's chest with a force he would never have used if Sam were conscious. If he were _breathing_.

He jumped when Sam gasped in response, his chest moving again in small, shallow movements, but movements nonetheless. Dean would have cried with relief if Bobby weren't in the room. He hated showing weakness in front of anyone, even if that someone was his surrogate father.

"That's it, Sammy. You're doing good. Just breathe." Dean praised, running a shaking hand through Sam's hair to brush his bangs back. Tired blue-green orbs peered back at him, Sam's eyes drooping down with exhaustion.

"Wha happen?"

Bobby let out a relieved sigh, dropping down into the small chair as the relief took his legs out from under him. "Damn, boy. You gave us all a scare is what. You boys'll be the death of me. I swear."

"S'rry Bobby." Sam mumbled as his eyes fell closed, falling asleep again almost instantly.

Running a weary hand down his face, Dean sighed to himself. "We are so finding the son of a bitch who brought that thing here, Bobby. If it wasn't dead already, I'd have its head on a platter, but the person who brought it here is gonna have to be the next best thing. They're gonna wish to God they never met me." His voice was deadly and full of conviction.

"I know, Dean, and I agree. But we still don't know who brought the thing here in the first place." Bobby glanced at Sam again, letting out a relieved breath when he saw his chest was still rising, albeit unevenly.

Dean pursed his lips in thought for a few minutes; still staring at his brother's sleeping form before his eyes lit up as understanding dawned. "The Sherriff. Bobby, it's gotta be him."

"The Sherriff? That Dope man? What makes you think it's him? Wouldn't he want to be protecting the trail? You know, not killing tourists? That's less money for him."

"True. But think about it. It makes sense. I mean he was the one who could have shut down the trail, but he didn't, so maybe…Plus, it couldn't hurt to check. We need that antidote and fast or else Sam will…" The words refused to leave his lips, stuck somewhere in his throat. Just the thought of his brother's name in the same sentence as the "D" word had his heart pounding in his chest.

Bobby glanced at Sam again before finally nodding in agreement, and while Dean should have been glad, it only had more fear running through his veins. If Bobby thought they needed to go now then he knew that Sam must be in really bad shape. "Alright, Dean. Let's go. But we're gonna need to hurry. Your brother doesn't have that much time left if that spectacle he pulled a while ago was anything to go by. The fact he was bitten already just means that there's a double dose flowing through his veins. We need that antidote now."

Bobby was already grabbing a handgun from his bag and slipping it in the waistband of his pants, just in case things got rough. "You don't need to tell me twice, Bobby. I don't want to be gone too long in case anything happens. Let's just go check up on Dope, and if he isn't our guy then…" He trailed off again, for once not sure what they would do. Did Sam have that much time?

Tossing those thoughts to the back of his mind, he stood up from the bed with a reassuring pat to Sam's arm. "I'll be back soon, Sammy, and then we'll get you all fixed up. All right, little brother?"

There was no response, but Dean wasn't really expecting one. With one final pat to his brother's limp arm, he trudged after Bobby and out the door, looking over his shoulder one last time at Sam's sleeping form before shutting the door behind him. The resulting click of the lock was deafening in his ears.

**()()()()SPN()()()()**

The black Impala cruised up to the wooden cabin. The Sherriff's house looked more like a camping site than a home, nestled deep in the woods like it was, but Dean didn't really think kids would be camping out in an area where people were dying.

Suspicious how the Sherriff's house was located in the woods off a dirt path leading away from the road; the dirt path heading straight into the Mngwa's territory. The fact that it did had Bobby loading rounds into the gun at his waist and had Dean's eyes scanning the woods for anything out of the ordinary. Well, besides the big cabin in the middle of nowhere.

He shut off the car as he pulled to a stop in front of the house. Glancing at Bobby, he nodded once to indicate that he understood, and opened the car door. He slipped the Taurus into the back waistband of his pants, pulling his shirt down to cover the weapon. The squeaking of the door signaled Bobby's exit from the car, and together they approached the falsely welcoming house.

Stairs squealed in protest as they ascended the steps to the front entrance, immediately blowing their cover.

"Who's there?" The unmistakable sound of Dope's voice echoed through the house. "I could hear that car of yours coming from a mile away. What do you want?" Was it just Dean, or did he sound a little nervous? From the look Bobby shot his way, he wasn't the only one who thought so.

"Sherriff Dope. It's ranger Plant. I have a few questions for you if you don't mind. About the animal attacks."

There was a pause before, "Oh. Ranger Plant, yes, I remember. Look, I'm sorry, but now isn't really a good time. You mind coming back later?" Dope called from somewhere inside his house, his voice muffled through the door.

"Sorry, but we really need to talk to you now. It's not something that can wait." Dean put a hand on the grip of the Taurus.

"We? You and the tall guy?"

"No, I'm with another Ranger today. My partner called in sick." Dean responded, slightly confused by the question.

"Hm. That's a shame, really." The voice was closer now, and soon the green door was opening, the pudgy face of Sherriff Dope peeking out at them. His face was covered in sweat and his eyes were darting between Dean and Bobby so fast that Dean was surprised they could even focus at all.

"Yeah. It is. You mind if we come in?" Bobby spoke up, his tone uncaring and unkind.

Dope's eyes latched onto Bobby. "Uh. Um. W-well. Now's not-uh-excuse me?" He exclaimed in surprise as Bobby forcefully pushed the door open and barged in. Dean followed the older hunter, throwing a warning glance down at the Sherriff to silence him.

Dope sputtered in shock and threw the door closed behind Dean before racing around to block Bobby's advance. "What do you think you're doing? You can't do this. This is trespassing. You need a warrant for this kind of thing, and that's only for the police! You two are damn park rangers! You have no right! I'll call the-"

Dean slammed a fist into the wall by Dope's round face, effectively silencing the short man's rambling. "You can try, Dope, but don't think that we're just going to let you. And what would you tell the police when they got here and saw that?" Dean gestured towards an alter that was set up in the living room, lit candles burning brightly and illuminating the crimson stains that adorned the wooden table. "You gonna tell them we brought that too? I don't think so. You're not calling anybody. What you a_re_ going to do, is give us the antidote."

Dope looked first at Dean, then at Bobby, sweat pouring off his face. "What…I-I don't know what you're talking about. Th-that's just…it's just…it's none of your business!" He finally shouted as he retreated back towards the alter, putting himself between it and the two advancing hunters.

"Son, we don't want to have to hurt you, but our friend is dying and we need that antidote now. Frankly, I don't care what twisted reason you had for summoning that Mngwa and makin it kill people, because now it's dead and you can't work that hoodoo anymore." Bobby stalked forward like a hunter in every sense of the word, matching every step back that Dope took.

A look of surprise crossed the Sherriff's face before morphing into one of anger. "You? You were the ones who killed it? Damn it! I should have known letting foreigners into the woods would lead to nothing but trouble!" His hand reached out and grabbed a metal knife from the counter as he backpedaled towards the alter. Thrusting the weapon out in front of him, he snarled, "You want the antidote? Maybe I would have given it to you before, but not now. Not after you ruined everything!"

Dean's Taurus was already pointed at the potential threat but the safety was still on. He was itching to pull the trigger and drop the person responsible for his brother's current condition, but he knew just how Sam would take the news. It was the only think keeping him from putting a couple rounds through Dope's large figure. The Sherriff froze at the sight of the gun trained on him.

"Look here Dope. I don't really care if you were _going_ to give it to us or not. The choice isn't yours, and it never was. You see, that monster you summoned bit my partner. My _brother_. And now he's dying in a dirty motel room, and that's on _you_. Sure, I don't expect you to care, seeing as you told the damn thing to kill all those other innocent people. The girl was just a kid, Dope."

Dope stumbled back another step, his back hitting the alter now as he came to a stop. He chewed on his bloated lip as he glanced between Bobby and Dean, guilt shining in his eyes. "I-I didn't _want_ anyone to die. You have to believe me. It's just…they couldn't know. They couldn't find out. It's only you foreigners, all of you think that it's some grand adventure to go hiking up dangerous trails. No one from the town ever does, so I don't have to worry. But you outsiders, you go up there all the time, and I can't risk being found out."

Dean exchanged a glance with Bobby, raising his eyebrow in silent communication. Bobby nodded back at him and pulled his own gun, moving back to flank Dean as the younger hunter approached the Sherriff.

"So…what? You hiding something up there that you can't risk anyone finding? What is it, weed? Does Sherriff Dope smoke weed?" He said sarcastically, gesturing with the Taurus as he spoke.

The Sherriff apparently didn't find it that funny though, because he looked around nervously before his eyes fell on Dean's gun again, but he didn't say anything.

"No…you're serious? That's gotta be poetic or something. I mean, I know that some people plant em in national parks and all, but you? Come on. Are you really that stupid? You did this all for some drugs? You _killed_ people for drugs?"

Dope's expression turned to anger once again. "It's all I have left! You wouldn't understand! My wife died just last month, my daughter the month before that. I can't cope without it! I can't take…I can't take the pain. It hurts so much when you have nothing left to live for. The drugs, they're the only things that help anymore. I won't let anyone take that away from me! So yes, I searched and searched for a way, and then I found it. Who knew that things like this existed? But it was perfect, because everyone who went up there never came down, so I didn't have to worry anymore. But then _you_ came and I just knew. I just knew that you'd ruin it! You outsiders always do!"

Dope flipped the knife in his hand and threw it at Dean.

"Shit!" Dean ducked under the blade, narrowly missing a slice to the head as the knife embedded in the wall, quivering from the force of the throw. A blast from Bobby's pistol was the only warning he had before Dope was barreling into him and knocking him to the floor.

The air exploded from his lungs and stars appeared in his vision as his head hit the floor. When it cleared, he saw Dope straddling him with a meaty fist raised to pound in his face. Before he could land the blow though, another blast from Bobby's gun sounded before red blossomed like a flower on Dope's chest. Shock registered in his eyes before they slowly dimmed, and he slumped forward on top of Dean, effectively trapping him under the weight.

"Little help here?" He managed to wheeze out before the weight vanished and he was able to sit up. Looking down at the Sherriff, his lips still moving in a silent mantra of _no_, Dean shook his head in disgust. "Shit."

"I know Dean, believe me, if there was any other way…" Bobby extended a hand out to Dean.

"Yeah. I know. But it still sucks. I mean the guy was a dick, yes, but he lost everyone he ever loved. If I ever lost you, or Dad, or…" The words still refused to come, but he took the offered hand and levered himself up. He cleared his throat. "So we need to find the antidote. He had to of kept it somewhere in here. Split up and search."

Bobby nodded at him in understanding, and Dean doubted it was about finding the antidote. As much as John was a good father, Bobby still seemed to be able to understand Dean more as a person instead of just a Hunter.

Without another word, Bobby slipped his gun into his waistband and took off further into the house, squeaking wood following his progress throughout the house. Dean looked down at Dope almost sadly, the man now dead as he lay on the floor with blood pooling around his chest, his eyes vacant and staring at nothing. He shook his head again before setting off in the opposite direction, heading towards what was hopefully the bathroom.

A short hallway extended out in front of him and he could see a door at the end, slightly open and what looked like a shower curtain peeking out at him. "Yahtzee. Just hang on, Sammy."

His boots thundered across the rotting floor as he sprinted to the door and pushed it open. A dirty toilet sat against the wall, rusted and stained with God-knows-what. Dean didn't want to think about it. Instead, he went to the sink and started pulling open drawers. Pills of almost every kind of anti-depressant filled the space, but so far nothing that looked like an antidote.

He was getting frustrated when he pulled open the last drawer and spotted a syringe of green liquid. The odd object stood out amongst the other bottles and Dean pulled it out to examine the tube. There was a hand-made label hastily scribbled onto it that read: _antidote _in plane black letters.

"I found it!" He shouted, and answering footsteps rang through the house as Bobby ran back to him. Not a minute later Bobby was in the bathroom and looking over Dean's shoulder.

"That's gotta be it. Good work, son." He patted Dean on the shoulder. "You find any more in there? Sam might need an extra dose and it's best to be safe just in case."

Dean immediately shuffled through the drawer again, but there was no other green syringe lying around. "I don't think so, Bobby. This is it. Let's just hope it's enough because it's all we've got. It's all Sam's got."

Bobby grunted in agreement. "Let's git out of here then. We're wastin time." The older hunter turned to leave with Dean following behind obediently.

As they slid into the leather seats of the Impala, Bobby pulled out his phone and reported the death of Sherriff Dope as Dean pulled out of the woods and onto the road, gunning the engine as he sped back towards the motel and his brother. He was pretty sure that he broke every speed limit in the whole state of Minnesota but he couldn't bring himself to care, not with his brother dying alone in motel room. Nothing was going to stop him from getting there, not even the cops. So what if he broke a couple laws? He'd do a lot more if it was for Sam.

**()()()()SPN()()()()**

He was bursting through the motel room before the Impala was even shut off, fear for his brother lending him speed. As soon as he was inside his green eyes were already riveted to the bed where the form of his brother lay prone on top of the sheets.

His breath left him in a gust of relieved air when he saw the (shallow) rise and fall of Sam's chest. Throwing his gun onto the other bed, he raced over to Sam's side and pulled the syringe from his pocket.

"Hey, Sammy. Hey, pal. I'm here now. You're gonna be okay, alright? You did a good job, Sammy. Always knew you were a fighter." He praised as he gently pulled Sam's arm out, laying it flat and exposing the vein. Bobby came into the room then and moved over to the bed, standing behind where Dean crouched.

"Make sure there ain't any air bubbles in the syringe before you-" Dean shot Bobby a withering look over his shoulder before turning back to his brother. Bobby coughed loudly in the tense silence that followed, but chose to remain silent.

Bringing the syringe up to his face, he flicked the tube several times to eliminate any air bubbles, purposely moving it into Bobby's line of sight before setting it at his brother's vein. He took a deep breath and pushed it forward, the syringe sliding easily into Sam's flesh. Once he was sure it was properly in place, he shot Bobby another look over his shoulder, this one hopeful, before turning back and plunging the stopper down, draining the antidote into Sam's veins.

Both hunters held bated breath as they waited for any sign that it had worked. A pregnant pause filled the air as all inhabitants of the room were silent before a soft cough from Sam had them all breathing again.

Dean patted Sam's arm. "Alright. Good job, Sam. You're gonna be okay now." Sam's only response was to turn his head in Dean's direction, able to hear his words even in sleep. The sight warmed him and a smile broke out on his face.

"Okay, boy. Now that that idjit brother of yours is taken care of, I think it's your turn now."

The smile dropped slightly. "What? What do you mean, Bobby? I'm fine." He turned to face the older hunter who still stood over him.

"Yeah and I'm the tooth fairy. I saw the hit you took when the Sherriff took you down. That couldn't have been easy on your stitches. Let me look at them."

Slight fear slid into his eyes, but he quickly masked it with irritation. "I'm fine, Bobby. Really. It wasn't that bad a hit. You don't need to look at it."

Bobby's expression hardened. "It wasn't a suggestion you idjit. Come here. Sam's fine now. He's gonna be okay, Dean. So now you get your ass over here." He ordered, and Dean rolled his eyes in annoyance but complied with the order.

When he was seated on the adjacent bed, Bobby came over to him and pulled his shirt up, examining the stitches and the damage. He prodded several areas with his fingers and Dean had to bite his lip to keep from crying out. His wounds were still painful and fresh, and no matter how strong he was, they still hurt like a bitch.

Finally Bobby finished his inspection and leaned back in satisfaction. "Well you're stitches are good. No breaks or anything, but that doesn't mean that you two aren't coming back to my place to rest up for a couple of weeks."

Bobby was using his no-arguments tone, and Dean wisely chose to say nothing. Besides, a couple weeks off didn't sound too bad right about now and with Sam in his weak condition, Dean decided that it wasn't a bad idea at all.

An awkward silence was just beginning to settle when Sam moaned from the bed, capturing both hunters' attentions. Dean was instantly at his side and laying a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder. "It's okay, Sammy. You're okay now, remember? Your awesome big brother went and saved your ass again, princess."

The taunt had the desired effect as Sam's eyes opened slowly, confused blue-green staring at him imploringly from under heavy eyelids.

"M'not a princess, De."

Dean laughed lightly at Sam's offended expression. "Yeah well you sure act like one, what with all the damsel-in-distress stunts you pull. Enough of those, okay? Just because you know that this prince will always save you doesn't mean you get to keep doing it, kay?" He reached a hand out and placed it on Sam's forehead, pleased to find his temperature in the normal ranges again.

His brother closed his eyes again and leaned into Dean's touch. "Kay, De. Promise. Not so fun for me either."

"Yeah, bud, I know. But you're good now, alright? And after this we're gonna hang at Bobby's for a while. You know, relax and take it easy for a bit. You need it."

Sam blinked his eyes open again to stare at Dean. "You too."

Dean smiled at Sam, pulling his arm back to lay it on Sam's arm. "Yeah. Me too."

Sam blinked in agreement before his eyes fell closed and his breathing evened out in sleep. Guess near-death experiences really took it out of a guy. Dean tucked Sam's arm to his side and stood from his crouched position.

"You should get some rest too, Dean. It's been a long couple of days." Bobby spoke up from the bed as he stood, walking over to the small chair and dropping into it. "Both you boys need it."

Dean was about to protest when a big yawn interrupted him and he reluctantly flopped onto the other bed, turning his body to face his brother so that he could watch over him.

Barely five minutes passed when Dean was already snoring softly, the fact that his brother was safe and that Bobby was watching out for them served to drain all the remaining tension from his body. Still, the fact remained that they would both probably end up in similar situations again, maybe even worse ones, but what didn't change was the fact that he would always be there to pull them out of it. No matter what it took, he would, because that's what brothers did for each other. And Dean was a damn good brother.

**Yay! So, the end. It was a lot of fun, and thanks again for all those who read and commented! You guys are awesome! Seriously though, you're awesome. Alright so then, let me know what you think. ~Thorn**


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